sleep doesn't help if it's your soul that's tired
If there were enough pillows, Finn would have probably attempted to build a wall between them not unlike when he had been coming through withdrawal, but there's nowhere to hide and nothing to hear apart from Tobi's explanations and his own pulse hammering in his ears. So Finn forces himself to breathe through it, having crammed a pillow onto his lap over the blankets as if to crush any biological urge that is still trying to make its hopeful presence known.
"What page do you want to be on?" he asks once he feels as if he's able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. It's with tense shoulders and a churning in his stomach that makes him feel as though he's the one who's hungover that he hesitantly lifts his gaze to her face. "I would want you to remember," he murmurs after a few seconds more. "I know what it's like... not to know what you did. So I... I don't think I could ever, not if you weren't..." Not sober, exactly. But not a whole bottle of wine tipsy.
"I think you are doing very well, compared to me," he says with a tentative smile.
"What page do you want to be on?" he asks once he feels as if he's able to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. It's with tense shoulders and a churning in his stomach that makes him feel as though he's the one who's hungover that he hesitantly lifts his gaze to her face. "I would want you to remember," he murmurs after a few seconds more. "I know what it's like... not to know what you did. So I... I don't think I could ever, not if you weren't..." Not sober, exactly. But not a whole bottle of wine tipsy.
"I think you are doing very well, compared to me," he says with a tentative smile.
FINN
